Daily Short: Sara 05

3rd Decade Eve Escaped Death. (D.E.E.D.)

Sara paced in front of the ritual circle that had been built. It was a Summoning, made possible by extensive contacts in the black market. She’d dipped into her gold reserves to fund this project. It would return Her and pave the way for more extraordinary things if successful. The ritualist she’d found to work on the circle was easily enticed after a few visits to a Gem Shop. Sara’s gems were specialists at convincing men to make terrible judgment calls.

The concept of illegal Summoning being a horrible idea tends to melt under multiple blow jobs. Sara thought idly. If this works, I’ll tie up the loose end personally. It wouldn’t do to have anyone learn who she was summoning. The Sunspire Arena was nothing more than a pool of molten slag, proper. However, it was only a tiny feeder branch of the massive Arena behemoth. Since they couldn’t turn their attention to the dragons, the organization of fighting maniacs was stymied. Instead, they decided to focus even more attention on Eve.

They were incensed that the potential to gain a Witch had slipped from their hands. It was clear the Color Coven’s warning hadn’t been taken to heart. Sara didn’t know why, as most significant powers would bend backward not to draw the Coven’s wrath. As a result, the quiet Bounty on Eve had gone meteoric in amount. It was enough to tempt even Emperors to action. Sara knew the Color Coven would defend their own, but Eve might not want to join them. Without a group backing her, or a high enough Tier, the Arena wouldn’t stop.

They couldn’t stop. Reputation was on the line now.

Sara’s current Tier was Five, meaning Eve was, at a minimum, worth the personal attention of powerhouses. It had taken decades to learn that Tier Seven was the height of power that would act. There might be a few old monsters around Eight, Nine, or Ten. However, such creatures wouldn’t be motivated by mere gold. Even with their power, the Arena would be nothing more than a playground for such sleeping behemoths.

She turned her attention to the ritualist as he placed the final set of runes before stepping back. The circle before her was a work of art, inked in blood and written in demonic tongues. Sara didn’t know much, but she could feel the runes screaming their power into the aether around them. The etheric construct was like a massive whirlpool disturbing the mana. It felt slimy and tainted, but she could care less.

If sunshine and rainbows could bring Her back, they would have been used instead.

No, breaching the Crystal Walls took more than sharp words.

It took unrelenting Will and Power.

“The circle is ready, m’lady. I’ll be paid, correct?” The ritualist asked with eager words.

Sara let a small trickle of her Charm slither out, wrapping around the man’s head like smoke. Her eyes took on a hypnotic green hue as she moved closer to her victim. Honeyed words dripped from her fanged mouth as she whispered, “I’ll make sure to see you are paid with my personal touch.”

Seeing their eyes glaze over and their breathing hitch is always fun. Sara said, glancing down at the tent between the man’s legs. Such an excellent confirmation of power.

Sara let her tone turn meek and pliable as she said, “Could you start the process, please?”

“O-Of course!” The ritualist straightened as if electrocuted. He rushed over to the singular circle that was offset and stepped inside it. Sara watched as the runes lit up, cascading into a chain reaction that caused the entire process to begin. Wheels of circles rotated opposite each other as runes blazed with an inner light.

Sara watched with bated breath as a slit in the air, like a knife wound, in reality, appeared. The ebony darkness grew in size until it was large enough for a single person to step through.

Finally! Sara thought as she watched with bated breath.

Minutes passed, then a quarter, a half-hour, and finally an hour. By the end of the hour, Sara’s expression was no longer thrilled. Instead, it had gained a frosty cast, and her regal mein had grown filled with bloodthirst.

“I thought you said it would work. It isn’t working. This isn’t a success. It is a failure.” Sara’s tone spat in poisoned brittleness as her body started glowing faintly green.

“I’m sure it will work. I j-just need more time to figure out the p-problem!” the ritualist said, his voice panicked.

“I think not. You have had your chance.” Sara said, turning away from the portal to face the man entirely. “Look at me.”

The ritualist struggled to resist the persuasive voice. His body shook, and it looked like he might break free for a moment. The moment passed, however, and his body went slack and unresisting. Here, in her place of power, Sara’s voice had so many debilitating effects it was nigh impossible to resist. Scent, sight, sound, taste, and touch were affected by her presence.

She stepped over and gave the petrified man a fervent kiss. There was a sickening squelch as the ritualist’s soul was ripped out. Sara’s eyes fluttered as she devoured the delicious morsel into her mouth while the meat puppet corpse collapsed. Wiping her lips with a clean cloth, she surveyed the body. It was the work of moments to melt the entire thing with acid poured from an open palm. She wasn't one to leave the possibility of revenge available for enemies.

This endeavor has taught me the value of talent. Sara thought, watching as the portal closed without any intruder passing through. I need to invest in a better method.

Sara chalked the failure up as a learning process and thought of how to find a better ritualist.

After all, more men were always willing to provide their souls as payment for services rendered.